It's All Your Fault, Lord Voldemort!
by TwinEnigma
Summary: 7th year fic. Defeating the dark lord is a messy business. Literally. And it's all Voldemort's fault, too. New Chapter! Fun! Snark! And, most of all, AU!
1. Default Chapter

It's All Your Fault, Lord Voldemort!

By TwinEnigma

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_Blanket disclaimer_: Anything you recognize, except for my OCs and the plot, I don't own. I do this for fun and absolutely no profit.

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Chapter One:

_In which we kick off the year with a bang..._

Seventh year... The words sounded wonderful. Harry couldn't help grinning at the idea. One more year of putting up with that grouchy git Snape and he could start Auror training. Just one single year, not even twelve months, of ignoring Malfoy-the-Amazing-Prat and absolutely trouncing Slytherin at Quidditch. Things were looking up, for once, and he couldn't be happier.

To top it all off, there hadn't been so much as a single peep from Lord Voldemort all summer long. Normally, this would have truly worried Harry, but after seeing that his friends and all the members of the Defence Association had made it back to school alive and perfectly well, there was really not that much to worry about. In fact, it was something of a relief not to be worrying all the time.

There was only one thing that could possibly destroy his perfectly good mood right now.

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape growled as he passed by. "Your potion should be green."

"Just one more year... just _one_ more year," Harry whispered to himself, trying to keep his temper in check. Quickly, he added the Peruvian Vipertooth venom and stirred counter-clockwise. The potion slowly turned to the proper green colour.

With all that had happened in the past year, one would have thought that Professor Snape would have at least cut Harry a little slack. But, no, it seemed that the overgrown excuse for a bat was _still_ angry with him about the whole pensieve episode from fifth year. Honestly, Snape could be really childish at times.

Hermione gave him a glance that clearly showed her sympathy for his situation. She, too, frequently was on the receiving end of Snape's criticism in classes, along with Neville and the scant other Gryffindors who had made it into NEWT level Potions. But 'Mione always kept a stiff upper lip in class, even during those times that Malfoy decided on being a horrendous prat and sabotaging her potions.

Neville was just beyond 'Mione, dutifully tending to his potion with all the care he had shown in taking care of his Assyrian _Mimbulus mimbletonia_. He may have not been the fastest potions brewer in the class, but he no longer had problems with melting his potions. Ever since the battle in the Ministry, Neville had been much more confident in himself and much less easily intimidated, making for one sorely disappointed Snape during sixth year.

Malfoy, on the other hand, was just as big a prat as ever. His father's incarceration, however short it may have been, had nearly made him unbearable at times with his incessant scheming and taunting. Of course, as much as the Amazing Bouncing Prat was an expert at shooting off his mouth, he was mostly all bark and no bite. He was rather comparable to a Jarvey in that respect.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, picking up the tray of diced bloodhound liver and methodically emptying into his potion. He really should be being paying closer attention to this potion; Snape _had_ mentioned that it was inherently unstable if left unattended at any point during its brewing and had a propensity for spontaneous explosions with unpredictable results. Sadist, Harry mused, resuming stirring.

Speaking of the sadistic overgrown bat, Snape was currently focused on prey of a Hufflepuff nature. At least he wasn't taking more points from Gryffindor at the moment. Thank heaven for small miracles!

Suddenly, the all-too familiar feeling of the snake uncoiling filled his entire being. Harry quickly muttered a charm to keep the potion stirring and started to raise the walls in his mind.

But he wasn't working fast enough and he knew it. "Professor," he managed shakily. "He's trying again."

"Idiot boy!" snarled the Potions Master, rapidly turning and approaching him. "What are you waiting for?"

Harry closed his eyes and cleared his mind, pushing back against Voldemort's mental assault. For a few seconds, it seemed like neither force was going to yield and, then, the Gryffindor suddenly found himself pushing forward into the Dark Lord's mind. He managed to catch bits and pieces of thoughts and memories, but nothing really substantial. Continuing to press forward, he managed to catch a glimpse of Voldemort's surroundings and gasped in horror. He knew that place!

Sensing his momentary unbalance, Voldemort used the advantage to shove Harry out and back into his mind. This time, Harry managed to raise every single one of his mental shields at once and shut him out. The serpent's presence faded, but he did not lower his guard.

Instead, Harry looked to Snape, his face ashen, and spoke. "He's found a way in, Professor, and he knows I'm here."

Professor Snape swore colourfully and drew his wand. "Mister Malfoy, go to my office and give a fire-call to the headmaster. Tell him that the Dark Lord is somewhere in the school and return here immediately," he ordered, glaring at the boy.

Malfoy stared at his head of house with something akin to bewilderment and surprise.

"Mister Malfoy, if you do not move your arse, I will make that incident with the ferret look almost pleasant by comparison. Now, go!" Snape barked and raised his wand threateningly. "And bring back some Draught of Peace! Granger, go help him!"

The Slytherin did not need any further motivation and hastily proceeded to Snape's office, Hermione following him without protest.

"Now, I want everyone to keep working on their potions until I say otherwise," the Potions Master stated, deadly calm. "And once Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy return with the Draught of Peace, you will each take a dose. The goal is to keep as calm as possible, is that understood? If you are calm and don't do anything stupid, you might just survive this."

Slowly, the students all nodded and tried to resume their work with shaking hands and nervous glances at the entrance to the classroom. A strained silence had settled over the class; it was as though no one dared to breathe too loudly, lest Voldemort hear them.

It wasn't long before Hermione and Malfoy returned, each carrying the precious flasks of the Draught of Peace. Snape approached them and quietly instructed them to distribute the potion and then take a dose themselves. They both nodded and immediately set to work.

Meanwhile, Snape turned and marched over to Harry once more. "Drink this, Potter," he growled, shoving a small flask into the Gryffindor's hands. It was identical to the ones being distributed by 'Mione and Malfoy. "And be quick about it."

"Whatever you've got in mind, it had better damn well work," Harry muttered and drank the potion, wincing at the taste. Shortly, he felt his nerves relaxing and anxiety fleeing.

Snape took the flask back and raised his wand. "I hope you like cats, Potter," he muttered and hissed a spell.

Harry started to protest, but it came out as a yowl and – quite suddenly – he found himself falling to the floor. On borrowed instincts, he twisted his body around and roughly landed on all four feet. He was still reeling mentally from the change in perspective and shook his head in an attempt to clear it.

The Potions Master leaned down and snorted, smirking slightly. "Well, Potter, I think you'll be quite safe in this form, provided you keep up your Occlumency."

Harry hissed at him angrily.

"Language, Mister Potter," Snape chided, picking him up and placing him on the table near Hermione's cauldron. "Try to behave like a normal cat, if you can manage that."

Harry really felt like taking a swipe at the professor, but refrained from doing so. He didn't want to lose any more house points, especially when Snape was trying to save his life, again. He reminded himself that Snape was just being a bastard because that was normal Snape behaviour and set about focusing on maintaining his mental wards.

'Mione returned and shot him an amused glance, before resuming work on her potion. Fortunately for them, this particular potion would remain in a stable state as long as it was being stirred and Harry's own potion didn't have to be watched too closely, except to add the crucial components; Hermione would see to that, undoubtedly.

There was a muffled noise outside the door to the classroom.

"Miss Granger, I thought I told you to get your cat off of the table!" Snape barked, glaring down at her.

"I-I," she stammered, momentarily caught off balance. "Blackie was a gift from... my boyfriend! I just got him before class, professor. I haven't had the chance to bring him back to my dorm yet."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for bringing your cat," Snape growled out, louder than usual. "Twenty points from Gryffindor such an inane excuse. Now get the cat off the table, Miss Granger."

Hermione gulped and hastily lifted Harry off the table, putting him on her chair.

Or she was about to, if the door hadn't burst open as a half-dozen Death Eaters charged into the classroom and Voldemort hadn't happened to follow them inside. Instead, 'Mione managed a strangled squeak and hugged Harry close as she and the other students all rushed to the front of the classroom and gathered behind Snape's desk.

Harry squirmed, trying to get free, but his brainy friend had a good hold on him and he couldn't free himself. He flattened his ears, giving an annoyed growl.

"Ssseverus Sssnape, so good to see you again," Voldemort practically purred, sweeping forward.

Professor Snape answered after a brief pause. He had probably been bowing. "My lord, what brings you to Hogwarts?"

"I've come for the Potter brat, Ssseverus," the Dark Lord stated, as though it were nothing more than a matter of the weather. "It's time to end thisss."

Snape paused a moment and then spoke again. "Well, unfortunately, Potter's little foray in Occlumency has made him quite ill. I sent him packing off to the Hospital Wing before he managed to contaminate his potion and accidentally detonate it."

"For your ssssake, he had better be there, Ssssseverus," Voldemort hissed, sounding very annoyed.

There was the sound of movement and then Snape piped up, "Wait, my lord! The Potter brat left his things here, including his wand, and - as I recall – it shouldn't be too long before he's back to claim them."

"Where isss his cauldron?" the Dark Lord asked.

"Here, my lord."

The sound of movement reached his ears, followed shortly by the sound of rustling. Undoubtedly, Voldemort was now searching his bag.

Hermione moved a little, motioning to Neville. Harry flattened his ears and clung tighter to her; he had a good idea what his friends were thinking and he did not like it one bit. There was also a faint acrid smell in the air and it was really annoying him. Hermione pointed towards the back of the classroom, mouthing something, and Neville carefully looked.

Harry caught the acrid smell again, stronger now. It smelled almost like something was burning.

"Listen, everyone," Neville whispered very quietly. "Harry's potion is starting to boil. It's only a matter of time before it blows up in the Dark Lord's face. When it blows, the Death Eaters will be distracted and we can stun them."

Oh, Harry thought. His stirring charm must have worn off.

Malfoy, keeping his voice low, drew his wand. "Dumbledore's on his way. He can deal with the Dark Lord. But Longbottom's right: we have to get the Death Eaters out of the way first."

"Then it's settled," Hermione said quietly. "We take out the Death Eaters when the potion blows up."

The other students nodded, whispering their agreements as they drew their wands. Harry started to wonder just why they were all so calm about this, when he recalled that they had all taken a dose of the Draught of Peace. Perhaps this had been Snape's intent in making them take it.

"Sssseverus, do you sssmell something burning?" Voldemort asked suddenly.

Hermione quickly put Harry down and drew her wand.

Now free to manoeuvre, Harry leapt up onto Snape's chair and peeked out over the desk. Voldemort was holding his bag in one hand and had turned away momentarily as he sniffed at the air.

Snape, meanwhile, made a quick visual scan of the simmering potions on the tables in the back. "Yes, just barely," he answered, finally, turning back to the Dark Lord.

It was right then that Snape saw Harry's potion – now a violent orange – bubbling dangerously. His eyes widened sharply in alarm, face going pure white. "DUCK!" he shouted, throwing himself to the floor.

Voldemort turned around, just in time for the potion to explode in his face, covering him head-to-toe in thick, bright orange goo. The Dark Lord looked livid as he slowly wiped the orange gunk from his eyes with a pale hand. He clenched his wand tightly with the other hand, grimacing. It was a safe assumption that he was immeasurably pissed off.

The Dark Lord seemed as though he was about to say something when, all of a sudden, he screamed in pain and doubled over, clutching at his stomach. He pitched forward, just barely grabbing onto the desk.

The Death Eaters all focused on the dark lord, some rushing forward to try and help.

"Now!" cried Hermione, leaping to her feet. _"Stupefy!"_

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_ Neville and Malfoy shouted together; two Death Eaters fell, stiff as boards with their arms plastered firmly to their sides.

There were various shouts of _"Expelliarmus"_ and _"Incarcerous"_ from the other members of the class, along with stunners.

Snape stood up, looking around curiously, while his students rushed forward to further tie up and disarm the prone Death Eaters.

Harry jumped up onto the desk to get a better look around. Not a single spell had missed its intended target, owing to the fact that the casters were perfectly calm and their hands steady.

A rare smile crossed the Potions Master's face. "Someone get Potter and turn him back," he said, pointing at the cat-who-lived.

Hermione gladly obliged, restoring Harry to his normal form with a quickly spoken spell.

"What happened to Voldemort?" Harry asked, as soon as he was back to normal.

Snape looked down at the floor where the Dark Lord had fallen. "I'm not certain," he managed, looking bewildered. "But I think he's dead."

Quickly, the entire class gathered around, struggling to get a look. Harry pushed his way forward and stared. All that was left of the Dark Lord was a pile of goo-covered black robes and a wand.

"Well," Malfoy drawled. "That was rather anticlimactic, wasn't it?"

The pile of robes suddenly moved.

Everyone drew their wands, while Harry quickly picked up the Dark Lord's wand, and aimed them at the pile of robes.

The robes moved again.

Harry gulped, anxiously tightening his fingers around the wand and pulled back the robes, careful not to get any of the orange goo on him.

There, sitting in the pile of vastly oversized robes, was a small, pale baby with untidy black hair – appearing to be only a few months old, at most. He stared at them with bright green eyes, blinking owlishly, and hiccoughed a moment.

"Good lord, Potter," Snape said, staring incredulously. "He's a baby."

At that, the former Dark Lord began to wail with all the strength his little lungs could muster.

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AN: This is an idea I've been bashing around based on a couple of intensely cute, though severely funny chibi-doodles I did featuring baby Tom and the regular cast. This story idea presented some of the funniest line ideas ("Malfie go Boom!" and "I can't raise the Dark Lord! I have NEWTs!") And this was produced during a manic period – meaning I couldn't sleep at all but I was in a very creative mindset. 


	2. Of baby Dark Lords and minds

It's All Your Fault Lord Voldemort

By TwinEnigma

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Chapter Two: 

_Of baby Dark Lords and minds..._

Frustration and anger lanced through Harry's mind, bathed in the despair of utter, consuming loss. It took him a moment to realize that in his surprise he'd let his mental shields fall and left his connection to Voldemort wide open. Quickly, he tried to clear his mind and force the barriers closed again – a much more difficult task now that the Dark Lord was in an emotional state. Struggling a bit, he finally managed to raise his mental shields and the noise in his head slipped into nothing.

"Harry, are you all right? You look pale," Hermione said, leaning down.

Professor Snape was issuing instructions to the other students nearby, mostly orders to continue stirring their potions mixed with unnecessary reminders about the rather unstable nature of the potion. He knelt and stared at the transformed Dark Lord and then at the orange substance still covering the crumpled robes. "Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy: please fetch several empty vials from my desk, some tongs and the leather satchel in the uppermost drawer. I'm not going to risk touching the remnants of Potter's potion until I know how it works."

The two of them nodded and went to gather the things he'd requested.

"For now, I'm going to assume it activates on skin contact," Snape said, grimacing again. "Be careful not to get any of it on you."

Harry stared at the Potions Master. "What about him?" he asked, pointing at the currently infant Voldemort.

The transformed Dark Lord had stopped crying and was now fixing the irritable professor with a very angry glare, as if to demand 'That's right! What about me?'

Snape's lip curled as he fixed the baby with a cool glare. "Forgive me, my lord, but you will need a bath. We must get any residual traces of the potion off of you." It was impossible to determine whether he was smiling or sneering.

Voldemort, if at all possible, looked even more cross than before.

Hermione and Malfoy returned with the professor's supplies at that moment, hastening to get them to him. Snape took the satchel immediately and spoke again, "Malfoy, you help me gather samples of Potter's potion. Granger, you and Potter have the task of bathing our young _friend_. I suggest you get out your dragonhide gloves."

Harry sighed and pocketed the Dark Lord's wand. He found his bag on the floor nearby and, much to his relief, there wasn't a single drop of the potion on it. Getting out the dragonhide gloves and putting them on, he turned back and inwardly groaned. If anyone had asked him what he was going to be doing in his seventh year, he would have never in a million years remotely suspected that he'd be giving an infant Voldemort a _bath._ He knew he'd never hear the end of it from his classmates, least of all Malfoy.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said, sighing as she carefully approached the transformed Dark Lord. "Help me get him to the sinks."

Malfoy glared at her as she narrowly missed hitting him in the head with her leg and snarled, "Watch where you're stepping, Granger!"

"Certainly, _Malfoy_," she replied, grinning wickedly, and made a point to step on his hand before leaning down to carefully pick the baby out from the pile of vastly oversized robes.

Almost immediately, Voldemort wailed and began struggling against her grip.

The Amazing Malferret cursed under his breath and gingerly rubbed his sore hand for a moment before going back to work.

"Hand him to me, 'Mione," Harry said, sighing. "I think he's still got a thing against muggleborns."

Hermione's eyes flashed. "You'd think he'd have a little more respect now that he's _completely reliant on the kindness of others_." As she finished, she glared directly at the small figure in her hands.

Amazingly, the transformed Dark Lord looked slightly intimidated by her rather pointed statement and all too gladly let himself be handed over to Harry.

"Get a move on, Potter!" Snape growled, looking up from where he was scraping the potion off a corner of Voldemort's robes.

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed again, "Yes, professor." With that, he reluctantly marched over to the sinks and let Hermione turn on the water.

Hermione paused a moment to test the water temperature and, satisfied, she indicated that he should put the baby in the sink. "Well, it looks like this year is going to be plenty interesting, Harry," she said quietly as she picked up the soap and started to scrub the baby.

"This is the _last_ thing I expected to be doing on my first day of classes!" Harry replied and took a moment to roll up his sleeves.

An amused grin appeared on Hermione's face. "Somehow, I doubt this was part of his plans either."

The transformed Dark Lord scowled at her, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Well, it's all _his_ fault, you know," Harry said, grabbing another bar of soap.

Instantly, the baby turned and glared at him murderously.

"Oh, stop it, Voldemort," he muttered, unfazed. "You were the idiot who decided to come and kill me during Snape's NEWT level Potions class, so you completely deserve what you got."

Hermione stifled a giggle at the stunned and somewhat flummoxed look on the transformed Dark Lord's face.

"Close your eyes," Harry ordered, raising the soap. "You don't want soap in them."

With an indignant huff, the transformed Dark Lord closed his eyes and scrunched up his face so that they could scrub his face and hair. If he had been a normal baby, this would have been quite adorable, but just knowing that this baby had been one of the most notorious Dark Lords in recent history up until ten minutes ago was enough to replace any thought of 'cute' with 'highly disturbing.'

"Ok, I think that should just about do it. Let's rinse him off," Hermione said, putting down the soap. Taking off a glove, she drew her wand and held it at ready.

Harry nodded and lifted his infant-shaped nemesis out of the now very soapy water. "Ready when you are, 'Mione."

With a swish and flick of her wand, Hermione created a gentle column of water that efficiently rinsed away the soap and disappeared. Quickly, she took off her tie and transfigured it into a towel, which she wrapped around the transformed Dark Lord before he even got the opportunity to fuss about it.

It was right about this time that the headmaster finally arrived at the classroom, his wand drawn as though he expected to be entering a battle. Instead, Dumbledore was greeted with a strangely calm classroom of unharmed students, sufficiently restrained Death Eaters, and the rather unusual sight of a fussing baby being held by the Boy-Who-Lived. "Professor Snape, I was under the impression that you were in need of assistance," the headmaster managed, finally spotting the irate professor.

"Yes, I'll need those Death Eaters out of my classroom as soon as possible," Snape replied acidly. "How can I be expected to teach with criminals crowding my classroom? It's barbaric, that's what it is."

Dumbledore nodded, ignoring the acerbic commentary, and gave the room another quick scan. "Where is Voldemort, Severus?"

"Potter's got him. Oh, and if you see any orange slime, _don't_ touch it!" Snape pointed out, capping a vial of said orange substance.

Somewhat perplexed, the headmaster approached the sinks and the rather unusual trio standing before them. Hermione, looking quite frazzled, ceased trying to dry off the crying baby in her best friend's arms and marched off to check on her potion.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, noting that the Dark Lord instantly stopped crying. Unfortunately, Voldemort had also decided to grab onto him as tightly as he could, something that was causing the poor Gryffindor a considerable amount of pain.

Dumbledore put away his wand and looked curiously from the baby to the seventh year and back again. "And I suppose this is Voldemort?"

Harry nodded, wincing as the transformed Dark Lord tightened his grip.

The headmaster paused a moment and then smiled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Well, Tom, you look amazingly young for a man of seventy. You hardly look a day over six months."

If looks could kill, Dumbledore should have been nothing more than a pile of smouldering ash, so great was Voldemort's anger towards him.

"Um, sir, he can still understand us," Harry said and shifted his grip a bit, hoping to get the Dark Lord to let go or at the very least loosen his grip a little.

Dumbledore nodded as though he'd expected as much and, with a very serious look at Harry, he asked, "Is the connection between the two of you still active?"

"Yes, professor," Harry replied. Somehow he got the distinct feeling that he was not going to like whatever the headmaster had in mind.

Voldemort seemed to share this sentiment, clutching even tighter to Harry than before.

The headmaster twiddled the end of his beard a moment. "Boys, would you be willing to let down your shields just enough that you can communicate between one another?"

Harry stared at the old man, now firmly convinced he was utterly off his rocker.

"Now, I'm not asking either of you to go completely off guard," Dumbledore continued. "But you both _must_ understand that it is necessary that this situation be resolved as quickly as possible! Harry, you have your NEWTs to study for and, Tom, I'm sure you want to get right back to your scheming before either Lucius or Bellatrix take over."

That seemed to get the transformed Dark Lord's attention and he hastily released Harry from his deathgrip. The baby looked up at his hated enemy and seemed to be pleading for something... or maybe it was a pout. Harry wasn't too familiar with babies and, as long as his mental shields were in place, he couldn't be certain of what the Dark Lord really wanted to convey.

Seeing as he wasn't getting the response desired, Voldemort reached up and firmly yanked on Harry's tie.

Harry instantly gagged, accidentally dropping his mental shields again.

_"Now that I have your attention, Potter,"_ the Dark Lord's voice snapped through his mind. _"Tell that blithering idiot Snape that he **will** get started on a counter-potion this instant if he truly values his life!"_

"Well?" Dumbledore prodded.

Harry yanked his tie from the transformed Dark Lord's hand and glared at the headmaster. "He's angry, as you can imagine, and wants to be restored as soon as possible."

"I see," the headmaster said thoughtfully and then looked to the Potions Master. "Severus, how soon might you be able to brew an antidote to this mystery potion?"

Snape, having just finished collecting another sample, seemed to have entered an even fouler mood. "I am uncertain... However, it would go _much_ faster if you stopped wasting my time by asking me such insipid questions and let me do my job!" he finished with a roar and stomped out of the classroom, presumably heading for his office.

"Well, I'm afraid you'll be staying with us a while, Tom," Dumbledore sighed. Then, a smile slowly broke on his face. "Lemon drop, anyone?"

Voldemort started to howl, while Harry shot the headmaster a scathing glare that he hope conveyed both his and his archenemy's collective wish to tell the old man exactly where he could shove those stupid candies.

"AND KEEP STIRRING THOSE POTIONS!" Snape yelled from the hallway.

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AN: Poor poor Harry. I obviously started writing this before book 6, but what the heck... sometimes AU is so much more fun. Snape was an absolute hoot to write and Dumbledore... well, I think I got his personality well captured. Lemon drop, anyone? Now, excuse me. I must go practice my German. Reviews will be used to fuel my muses, who are shameless addicts to attention. 


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